(I'll Be Home For Christmas) If Only In My Dreams
by packerparkprincess
Summary: This is my very first fanfic. I'm crap at summaries, so... CS Modern AU, Fake Dating/Christmas. Also... I'm rating this T because I think there might be a few foul-ish words in here already. And I swear like a sailor, so I'm sure there will probably be a few more before I'm done with this.
1. Chapter 1

"You know, you don't have to do this."

"Okay."

"Wait, what?!"

"I'm merely messing with you, Swan."

Emma huffs out a breath in relief and offers him half a smile. She wouldn't blame him if he had a change of heart. He barely knew her and she probably seemed a little crazy over the past couple hours.

She had driven around the neighborhood for half an hour, trying to allow as many people as possible to arrive at the Christmas Eve party before them. The less one on one time she had to spend with her father, the better. Killian hadn't said a word about Emma's flourish of nervous energy, but anyone would be accurate in saying that she certainly seemed a _little_ crazy right now.

They had met nearly a year and a half ago. At the time, Emma had reached a point in her life that she never, in her wildest dreams, imagined she'd be dealing with. After years of wallowing - Emma certainly wouldn't call it that - she needed a change.

She had bounced around colleges for years, winding up in Florida at a film school. Movies and television had always been her passion, with everything she dealt with in her childhood, films of any kind were her escape. Stories of love or adventure, of thrilling action or quiet reflection, stories that she desperately yearned to tell. Stories that she hoped, someday, would help another child like her find escape from their lives. After Emma graduated, she made her move to Los Angeles. The little girl inside of her would be flipping out over such a development in her life.

But Emma knew she faced a daunting climb to any sort of success. Her heart had been broken. At 18 years old, she thought she had found her soulmate. After two years of close friendship - close putting it _mildly_ , they did nearly everything together, knew each other better than they had known anyone else in their lives - she couldn't take waiting around anymore. Waiting for him to realize everything he seemed to want had been literally right next to him for years. Finally, she took matters into her own hands and confessed her feelings for him.

In the end, she almost wishes she hadn't. Weeks later that friendship crumbled. He had told her that he loved her too, he just wasn't in love with her. Within the year, Emma had run. Had run to Florida, had run to her escapism and less than two years later, she had a degree and an expanding waistline to show for it.

And there lies her daunting climb. It took her awhile, but rejection after rejection from job after job had her fed up. She was sick of people barely looking her over, sick of being rejected in favor of the _hot_ chick that would probably give their bosses great _benefits_. After a few cases of public embarrassment - Emma had fallen a few times, her body still trying to figure out how to operate under its new weight - she sought out a professional.

Enter Killian. She had been with her personal trainer for a week when she first met him. She had been a few minutes early to her session when she opened the door to the small studio apartment sized space. And there, in all his glory, was Killian Jones.

Over the weeks and months, they would bump into each other every Wednesday and Saturday. It didn't take long for her to overhear him talking to their trainer about animation. It took little to connect the dots that the animator client her trainer would talk about was him.

Emma looked over at Killian, admiring his stubble covered jawline. It made her smirk internally. She could remember the first time she had run into him coming out of his session with a clean shaven face. She had giggled at the sight of him, to which he took slight offense. After assuring him 'it's just _different_ ', she can't recall ever seeing him clean shaven again.

"What do you say, Swan?"

"Huh?" She had been lost in thought, in contemplation. _Would this work?_

He finally unbuckled himself from the passenger seat and motioned towards the house. Emma sighed and nodded, shutting the car off and readying herself.

They make quick work of the short, steep driveway. Bright white Christmas lights lay draped over the bushes lining the walkway to the front door. At the sight of the red ribbon accentuated wreath adorning the door, Emma's blood runs cold. Her heart nearly stops in her chest and - as if some unknown entity had a firm grip on it - she stops dead in her tracks.

She's bumped from behind, firm hands reaching out to grip her elbows in surprise, "Swan?"

She doesn't answer, just continues to stare at the door.

"Emma, is everyth- "

" _What_ am I doing?" It's nearly a whisper. "This was _so stupid_ of me. Why am I even doing this? It's not like they're gonna buy this bullshit! I can't do this!" She was borderline hysterical, all the while keeping her voice barely above a whisper. "They'll find us out and it'll just be one more thing they can hold over my head for the rest of their lives." Emma is wringing her ungloved hands together, expelling what she could of her nervous energy. And then suddenly, she threw them up and turned to face him. "We didn't even bother to come up with a story! Who goes through all of this and doesn't even have _one_ discussion about the story they're gonna be feeding people." Her fingers rub furiously at her forehead, she was beyond exasperated at the situation she had knowingly and willingly gotten herself into. _It had been her goddamn idea in the first place!_ "Ugh! You know, you really don- "

"But we're here now."

For the first time, Emma takes a lasting breath and realizes that Killian had managed to maneuver her along the walkway while she rambled. Her eyes blew wide. Sudden, impending doom was upon her.

"And as for our _story_ ," his warm, rich voice pulled her back to him, "I don't think there's anything wrong with the one we've got." There was a twinkle in his eye and an air of something Emma couldn't quite put her finger on. "We met through our trainer. Your session was always after mine and of course you were hard pressed to fight off the advances of this devilishly handsome sweaty pig."

His teasing grin lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

"So," gesturing to the door, "do we ring or - "

"Enough people are here. We can just go in."

"After you, _milady_." Killian gently prodded her forward. Reaching out, Emma gripped the door handle and instantly reached back to grasp Killian's gloved fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was a blur for a few minutes. She was aware of two things through the fog: the quick, curious glances and the tug of Killian's hand in hers as she presumably lead him in through the small foyer and into the kitchen. The next thing Emma knew she was standing nearly toe-to-toe with her sister and baby brother.

"Emmi!" Her brother threw his arms around her. David, or Davey as Emma liked to call him - he hates it but she loves her brother all the more for allowing her to be the only one to call him that - is eleven years her junior. His embrace is strong and she realizes with a sudden pang that he damn well may be as tall as she is now. Her eyes sting instantly. Blinking rapidly, Emma reaches up for the back of his head to smooth her fingers over his light brown locks and gives him a final squeeze.

"I missed you, baby bro." She mumbles just loud and slow enough for only him to hear as she fondly pats his cheek and turns her attention to her little sister, the eldest of her half-siblings.

"Jammy!"

Emma wraps her shorter sister up in a gentle embrace. It's always a little reminder of her stepmother, she was the only kid to inherit her short stature.

"Hey E."

"I've missed you," Emma says as she pulls away. Before Emma can take half a step back -

"And _who_ is - "

"J, this is Killian. Killian - "

"Jamie!" Her long, straight mocha colored hair fell behind her shoulder as she reached out her hand.

Killian gripped it gently, "Jamie, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard such wonderf- "

" _Oh_ , I'm sure." Jamie throws her big sister a playful look, laced with a bit of something else.

To Emma's immense relief, the following whirlwind of greetings and introductions is surprisingly easy. Arriving after nearly everyone else has it's advantages. There's no need for small talk in most cases, a simple _'hi, how are ya?'_ all the way down the line, pausing every couple people to drop Killian's name does just the trick. Especially when most of the people gathered around the kitchen island covered edge to edge in hors d'oeuvres were of her stepmother's family. But there was that look again. When her stepmother turned around from stirring something on the stove, she introduced Killian in all his natural charming glory from across the island. And there was that look. The same that had crossed her sister's face.

 _Did they know? Already? Just by looking at them?_

And then her stepmother's voice was interrupting her thoughts. Killian nudges her gently, seeming to sense her withdrawn gaze.

"Wha'?"

Her stepmother doesn't try to hide her eyes as they roll, "Your father… is outside."

Emma looked at Killian then turned for the open sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen. The crisp winter air blew in through the door and into the stuffy space. The breeze bit at her ears as it rustled her blonde curls. Kilian's hand finds her's as she crosses the threshold onto the covered deck.

As much as she loath to admit it, it was a beautiful set up. Tonight, it was dimly lit - plain white Christmas lights strung from the edges of the roof where it meets the screen enclosure. Extra light filters in through the glass door and the window that looks out over the backyard from the kitchen sink. The deck's furnishings are simple, white wicker framed furniture reminds her of summer vacations down the shore and the same old metal high-top table that had been on the deck since before she moved out still sat in one corner. Albeit, with a flat screen TV mounted above it - the family had made quite a bit of improvements since she had moved out.

And there, at the makeshift bar setup in the opposite corner, was her father. His hair much more salt than pepper these days, he stood tall with his back to her. His face shrouded in shadow but she could see as he placed a bottle of tonic back among the liquid lineup.

"Dad," she croaked. She took a step closer and tried again. With more force, " _Dad_."

He finally turned, drink in hand.

"Dad, this is Killian. Killian. My dad." Straight to the point. Rip the bandaid right off. As usual, Emma finds herself struggling to read her father. Which is saying something, she prides herself on reading people.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Killian's voice is measured but warm as he reaches for her father's hand. Emma almost swears that it got deeper.

The men shake hands and Emma can tell that her father is either trying to crush Killian's hand or is thinking about it by the muscle jumping on her father's forearm.

"Killian, huh?" His tongue finds the inside of his cheek and Emma already knows this is bad. Her father's jaw flexes as he literally bites down on his tongue. Growing up, Emma and her siblings knew that was _never_ a good sign. His temper was always measured by how vigorously he was gnawing on his tongue. "That's an _interesting_ name." He nearly chuckles. Emma can almost _feel_ him holding back.

"Well, thank you, sir. I quite like it myself!"

At that, Emma actually does let out a breath of a laugh. The grip on her hand tightens in response. Clearly he's got her back, he's just as ready to deliver something of a jab - more aptly described as a deflection - as he is to take them for her.

With perfect timing, a strong pair of arms wrap around her shoulders from behind. They squeeze her hard before releasing her to turn around.

"Hey, big sis!" Steven, her other little brother, beamed down at her, arms wide open. He was beginning to tower over her. It was almost hard to believe, if not for the soon-to-be-man in front of her. She leaned forward and buried her head in his chest. His arms enveloped her again and she inhaled deeply. Inside, she laughed - Emma always prefered men's deodorant to women's, _it works better!_ \- but she could smell it on him. Two peas in a pod, as always.

"I missed you, Stevie."

Killian's introduction to Steven wasn't as icy as her father but she could certainly tell her brother was going to have an eye on his sister's 'new boyfriend'. However, he remained polite. The three grab drinks as her father watches on. He throws a half-warning at Steven about not being old enough to drink. Emma feels her eyes instinctively roll in their sockets. With her hand nestled in the crook of Killian's elbow, she motions for him to follow Steven. Moments later, they've reached the safety of the basement and Emma is finally able to breathe.

Killian feels the exact moment she relaxes. A hair's breath later, he feels her stiffen again. Both are instantly and acutely aware that their hands had, once again, found each other. Emma felt Killian gently let her hand drop to her side and looked up at him as he offered her a tentative smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Emma can come up with a plausible excuse for putting immediate physical distance between herself and Killian, a white ball of fluff collides with her legs.

"Hey bud!" Blonde hair flies every which way as Emma bends down in a hurry, corralling the enthusiastic pup in front of her. She begins to run her fingers through his short, wavy tendrils of hair and he flops onto his back, his body still writhing in unadulterated delight.

" _Wh_ -" Killian starts but thinks better of his question as he stoops down to Emma's new level.

" _Murphy_ ," she whispers to him.

Instantly, there's a small smirk on his face and she knows without having to ask exactly what he finds humorous. _The Irish bastard._ He watches as she vigorously pets Murphy, the dog becoming more and more excited - he pops up, running in a frenzied circle before finally coming to a rest against Emma. A chorus of hearty laughter explodes from the room.

"Hey there, Murph-" Killian quickly withdraws his extended hand as a low growl emanates from the dog. "Oh, I - "

"Yea, I'm sorry. He tends to not be very trusting of men," Emma informs him.

"I see."

"He still hates Uncle Bob!" Davey interjects, passing by to join some cousins in a game of floor hockey. Those paying attention laugh once more at the truth.

"And, if you're incredibly unlucky, he'll never actually warm up to you." Emma offers Killian a reassuring smile, leaning in closer to add in a whisper, "If you ask me, Murphy's judgement is second to _none_."

Killian understands what she seems to be telling him and allows a chuckle to rumble through him. He notices how her smile softens at the noise. The smile gracing her face not looking an ounce forced anymore; her beautiful features relaxing seemingly all the way down to her toes. Sea green eyes he so secretly adored locked on his. The gold flakes within the green, blue sea sparkle back at him and for a moment he's nearly lost. Like a sailor overboard, at the mercy of the sea.

"She's right about that." Steven adds, shattering their quiet moment. He had been listening closely as he leaned nonchalantly on the back of the black leather couch. "You remember that one guy… when you were in, what, high school?"

Immediately, Emma does _not_ like where this is heading. She shoots the sharpest daggers she can muster at her brother. But he seems more than happy to ignore her eye assault and continues.

"God, what was his name? I feel like it was something douchey… oh well, but those times he would come over, Murphy would never stop barking." He's really enjoying himself, Emma on the other hand is praying to whichever deity will listen to get him to stop talking. "Had to leave him outside for a couple minutes, even then, he'd sit at the back door and bark relentlessly until he left. Even when you guys seemed to wise up and _rendezvous_ in the car, good ol' Murph would sit in the window barking and growling until you came back."

" _Steven_!" Emma could feel herself blushing furiously. Next to her, Killian was appreciating the anecdote immensely.

" _What_?! I was _just_ giving an example. Murph's judgement is on point."

With that, Steven turns to join the cousins and Emma unwillingly turns her attention to Killian who is smiling back at her. And she can't even be mad at her brother, that smile on his face is so brilliantly beautiful that she'd gladly let Steven tell Killian every borderline embarrassing story he can remember if it meant that the little dimples framing his smile never faded.

"Your brother really loves you," Killian observes, his body swaying towards Emma.

"Ya think?" The sarcastic bite to Emma's voice was less than subtle.

Killian's responding chuckle was warm, "The lad just - "

Emma sputters. "I'm sorry, it's just a little odd to hear him referred to as a lad."

"Well, you good people seem to have a fondness for the Irish, I don't see the issue."

"Oh, ha. Ha."

"With the exception of your father, of course." Emma truly did laugh at that. "But I did enjoy the lad's story, even considering he subtly threaten to refer to me as some douche bag for the rest of time does this not work out." Their laughs bubbled up, Emma realizing the complete truth in the observation. Killian's hand lightly pats her shoulder as their laughter subsides, coming to rest warmly on the back of her elbow. Chills had run down Emma's spine as his fingers traced down her shoulder to her bicep before finding her elbow, warmth emanating from the points of contact. "Speaking of, who was that douche guy?"

 _Smooth Jones. Real smooth._

Emma recoils a little. Suddenly unsure. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She feels Killian's fingers flex lightly on her elbow the instant the question fell from her lips. For a moment she thinks he might yank her to him but then his hand relaxes again. He reached up swiftly with the other to scratch behind his ear before fixing Emma with an intentful gaze, one eyebrow arching high on his forehead.

"Perhaps I would."


	4. Chapter 4

_Perhaps he would_.

Three simple words: _Perhaps I would._ In front of him, she stood rooted in a near trance for far too long - as far as she's concerned. _Now_ she's hold up in a small powder room behind the basement bar. And taking far longer to wash her hands than she ever has in her life.

Outside the door, shouts and cheers from the spirited game of Bullshit continue on. Introducing Killian to her hoard of cousins had been a breeze. The young adults and teens were a bit fascinated with the foreigner and quickly invited the couple to join them in the card game. Davey had opened his mouth as the cards were shuffled and Killian took a particular interest in his assurances that Emma has an uncanny knack for reading people. He had instantly opted out of the dealing and settled himself over her shoulder. Cousins filled in around the long expanse of bar excitedly. Bullshit provided the younger kids the unbridled chance to curse - which they all welcomed with fervor.

Emma tucked herself into one corner, Killian angling himself over her left shoulder. His oddly sea reminiscent scent tempted her to lean back into him; tempted her to let that intoxicating mix of salt, oak - _and what was that? rum?_ \- wash over her. _God, she needed a stiff drink._

Aside from the alluring fragrance, Emma could feel that stupid scarf he was wearing resting against her back. Stupid only because she'd found herself thinking about how it would feel to grab him by it and haul him to her. She'd found herself debating whether or not the fabric would be smooth or rough to the touch. The game cycled around the bar a number of times before she realized she hadn't called one person on their bullshit yet.

Realizing she was far passed rattled, she made her move to excuse herself to the bathroom. Killian gladly took up her place - even if the look in his eye had held a minute sliver of disappointment. Almost as if he were a puppy being left on his lonesome.

Wrenching her mind from _perhaps_ , green eyes lock with their twins in the large bathroom mirror. Emma allows herself a final few moments to breathe, taking chunks of her golden locks between her fingers and braiding them together across the top of her head. Securing the braid with a skinny red hair tie abandoned on the smooth sink counter, she took one last look in the mirror.

Finally emerging from the tiny bathroom, Emma does her best to go unnoticed as the room - mostly full of boys - continues to clamor animatedly over each turn of the game. The commotion, such a ruckus, Emma assumes the game must be nearing its end. She skirts around the bar, doing her best to avoid the eerie gravitational pull she feels towards the handsome Irishman. His face comes into full view when she rounds the opposite corner of the bar.

She has barely a moment to consider how quickly she was willing to admit to herself that he was handsome, when his eyes look over and meet with hers. And the way he looks at her damn near takes her breath away. Beautiful, brilliantly blue eyes clearly take in Emma's altered hair styled. His appreciation was evident in his expression. As much as she felt like her breath had been stolen from her, he looked almost as if he had been rightly sucker punched.

Averting her eyes, Emma goes about refilling everyone's soda. The next time her eyes pass Killian's direction, he is down to a few cards at best. Steven is perched at the end of the bar where she is pouring drinks, two cards left in _his_ hand.

The instant after Davey drops his two jacks, Steven's tongue finds its way between his teeth. Barely noticeable to the untrained eye but the set to his jaw that comes with it is so reminiscent of their father that she has to do her best to subdue a chuckle. Aside from his inherited tongue munching, he had also failed to call his own little brother's bluff.

Emma caps the bottle of Sprite she had just poured his drink from and waits. His acting needs work, her brother might be able to pull one over on a single person from time to time - she likes to think she taught him _that_ much - but under the intense attention of entire room, he was beginning to splinter at the edges. And when he tosses down his _one queen_ , she pounces.

"Bullshit."

Steven's gaze snaps to Emma instantly, " _Excuse_ me?"

Emma sets his freshly poured Sprite in front of him, the ends of her eyebrows lifting, silently challenging him. Jamie is now spectating and struggling to silence her giggles from the other end of the bar. Each sibling, so fiercely competitive that any sort of competition has a tendency to get out of hand. Ensuring an entertaining viewer experience for everyone else.

"Do you need me to say it _again_?" When all he does is look back at her, she leans forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the marble countertop. "Bull. Shit."

Steven is absolutely indignant, "Shut up. You're not even playing!"

"Those are my cards," she counters, pointing at a smirking Killian. "I am completely at liberty to call bullshit on their behalf."

Emma knew regardless if she was right, as one of the eldest, the room would side with her. _Should have thought about that before you went telling stories, huh bro?_ She tries her best to communicate that through her gaze.

"But - "

"Her cards. Her boyfriend. Her call." Tyler, one of her twin cousins, interjects. The label _boyfriend_ striking her immediately before…

" _DINNER_!" Her stepmother's honeyed voice carries down the stairs and rouses the basement occupants.

The youngest of her cousins, Joey, pops his head as quick as he can over the counter to assess the status of the game. His tiny voice immediately ringing out, "Killian wins!"

Steven slams the cards he had just gathered back down on the counter. On contact with the marble, they fly every which way. Emma can't help but enjoy the moment of frustration. Her smile grows as everyone around her makes for the stairs.

Taking her time to clean up the mess of cards left behind, Emma can't help but hear Tyler over and over again in her mind. _Boyfriend_ , this shouldn't be something that affects her so much. Especially considering that was the entire reason she had brought him here: to pretend to be her _boyfriend_.

"Are we not following the dinner summons?"

Emma's head jerks up from her task to find Killian tentatively cleaning up empty and abandoned cups. He had rolled his burgundy shirt sleeves up to his elbows, his hair dusted forearms now magnificently on display for her eyes to watch hungrily. The muscles of his forearm dance with every flourish of his fingers. Returning her gaze to his, she forces away as many of those thoughts as she can.

"Oh, uh - I mean, you're more than welcome to." Confusion edges its way onto his defined features, "It's just… I figured I'd let the mass stampede do their thing first. Instead of adding to the congestion up there."

Killian nods and continues to gather cups, joining her behind the bar to dump them out in the sink. He finishes and leans back against the counter next to her. The hair on the back of Emma's neck stands up, she can feel him watching her intently.

"Your cousins are amusing. But why, may I ask, do I feel like you're hiding away? It just seems a little counter intuitive considering our arrangement."

"It's just…" She tries her best to explain what is going through her mind. Pulling up way short of mentioning how being within two feet of him is making it hard to concentrate on breathing let alone maintaining this ruse. She thinks she adequately walks him through her history with her parents, providing him the most basic of information with which to paint a picture. The picture of the fool her father believes her to be.

"Listen," his large, calloused hand finds its way over hers, blanketing hers in a warmth that spreads up her arm. "I know you - we, don't know all that much about each other. You certainly don't know everything there is to know about me. And I get the feeling that this is a tough ask of me but… you gotta trust me."

A shiver raced from the bottom to the top of her spine like bolt of lightning. She prays that he couldn't feel the shudder it sent through her entire body.

"I want to make you one promise." Emma finally glances back up at his too blue eyes. "If anyone is to leave here a fool tonight, it will most certainly _not_ be you."

"Thanks." She mumbles and she can't help the sudden stinging in her eyes. Extricating her hand from under his, she wraps her slender fingers around his. They squeeze his softly before Emma turns to finally follow the frenzied basement dwellers up the stairs. As she makes it to the landing, she looks back, "C'mon, I thought you were hungry," she teases.

Killian chuckles to himself. He's fully aware this could become quite the long night. Impressing a room full of young people was a cake walk. Especially when one looks like he does and has an entertaining accent to boot. But dazzling a few rooms full of adults would be another thing entirely. A challenge he is most certainly up for. But he was beginning to question just what it will take to get his _girlfriend_ through her night. He could already tell there's a bit more to the story he'll probably never get from Emma herself; he also sensed something else brewing in that beautifully blonde head of hers.

Removing his discarded leather jacket from the back of a bar stool, Killian follows Emma. Before he can reach the first step, a tall figure steps out from the open doorway at the bottom of the stairwell, stopping and leaning against the doorframe.

"We need to talk."

* * *

 _(There might be a large handful of extra mistakes in this chapter. It's my longest yet and I'm too anxious to get it posted and too tired to reread it right now. Apologies._

 _I'm hoping to get on a more consistent posting schedule & I'm tentatively planning 10 chapters. This is my first fanfic and I'd reallyyy LOVE some feedback and/or constructive criticism! I genuinely would like to get better._

 _Much love, thank you for reading! xx)_


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